That's right- grape stomping. And no, it wasn't like in I Love Lucy or that viral news clip where the news reporter takes a major spill. This was the full Italian experience (from many decades past) recreated for us Americans. But I really couldn't think of a better way to spend the sunny hours of the day than out in the vineyard filling crates of grapes, squishing them, and then sitting at a table that sat 50+ chatting with people I've previously met through Girl Scouts, running events, VBS, soccer, and even on last week's wine tour. Talk about a small community!
With nothing more than being handed a shirt, hat, and knife we were directed to go pick grapes- the green grapes. Luckily the vineyard had some time to dry out from last night's torrential downpour. Just a little. Although it wasn't muddy, the soil was very soft (like it was volcanic ash or something) and beautiful! Our two crates were filled pretty fast- I mean with the grapes trained to grow to the lower branches makes it very easy. It may not have been gleaning but it was still a blast oh and the grapes were yummy. Actually eating a grape or two from the vine grossed me out since they were covered with a blue powder and my hands were rather muddy, but Joe convinced me I wouldn't die and they were really good so I had to try them. I was more focused on figuring out just how many grapes were needed to make a glass, bottle, case of wine...with the efforts of all us I'm pretty sure 1/4 of their vineyard was harvested. And it really was a group effort- even the little kids (pint sized ones that were swimming in their shirts) were handed knives to join in. (Only in Italy.)
Feeling somewhat accomplished, but really dirtier more than anything else, we headed to the restaurant side of things and found out that Joe already knows half the people I know because they work for him. Go figure. Oh well- I had grapes to stomp. And stomped I did. It was rather gross feeling because as one mentioned, there were cold and warm spots which made her asking if someone had peed in the tub. Ick. It actually felt more like cold dish water with food particles in it...again, ick. (That's that look on my face that was captured but I assure you it was fun.) Once our feeties were clean we sat down for lunch. The lunch was in true Italian fashion: a ton of food spread out over multiple courses and 2+ hours. The conversations were entertaining and perfect timing since it's almost olive harvest and I learned that we had to head north for the first pressing for the best oil ever. In between glasses of wine, plates of food, and laughter we'd play the "name that cheesy 80s song" being played game. Well, I kind of lost since I think I was the only 20-something there and someone who shall remain nameless said I pretty much was grouped in with her kids. HA. I'm not that young.
The final event of the day was when they poured the crushed (stomped) grapes into an old press. Apparently someone had asked about the grape juice and they were bottling it up. Um yeah. Ick. I declined bringing home a bottle of it. What would you do with it? Boil it into a syrup? Any idea how many feet were in there?! Rumor has it too that their white wine wasn't all that great which is why the bottles of red were drained rather quickly from our tables.
At any rate, it was a fabulous day and I really am glad that at the last minute plans were changed from beer and balloon festival to grape harvesting. I think I'll try to stick with all things Italian this first year for festivals and then branch out. Next festival on my schedule is the chestnut festival in early November but of course I also hope to hit up the Apple festival, but in the mean time I need to lay off the food and get running. Tomorrow is 5K number 4 of the year and then next weekend I'll be in Siena for a 10K (oh, and more food). Seriously. This is ITALY. You really can't avoid food without missing out on a ton of the culture so just balance it with plenty of running and stick to not being a huge fan of pasta and you'll be good- trust me.
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